San Sebastian - Barrio de / Neighborhood of Merida

In the city of Merida, you will encounter many different barrios, colonias or neighborhoods. So many in fact, that when you look at a map of greater Merida you will be overwhelmed with choices and unfamiliar names that go way beyond the generic “centro” so often used by the expats (hint: centro is not a neighborhood that will appear on any map) or “el centro” which is its local name.

From Azcorra to Miraflores to Mayapan to Brisas, the colonias are all over the map. And they are not all in the central Merida area. The interesting ones with colonial-era churches are, however, and these are the neighborhoods with the most history and often the most photogenic and desirable from a visitors point of view.

One such neighborhood, one of the traditional ones and less visited than say Santiago or Santa Ana, is San Sebastian. San, as you know, is a saint and San Sebastian is a coastal town in the Donostia region of Spain as well.

In Merida’s San Sebastian neighborhood, the yearly celebration of note is the Festival del Pib, where many providers of this important Hanal Pixan dish gather to sell their versions of the delicious and Omeprazol-invoking baked tamal called the pib. This festival is held at the end of October and is a must for all those interested in local food and ambience.

A pib close-up

Another interesting attraction of this neighborhood are the murals/street art on the facades and walls, between La Hermita and the church dedicated to Nuestra Señora de Asunción. These paintings, sponsored by the authorities to revive interest in the area and with paint from Mexican paint company COMEX, are about inclusion, and they are colorful and photo-worthy if you like that sort of thing.

Then of course, there is the Our Lady of the Assumption church, the center of the neighborhood and what gives the area its rather stately feel. Originally a modest center of worship, construction began with help from donations by the faithful around the year 1800, to enlarge the small chapel and create the building we see there now.

This effort was spearheaded by one don Juan Esteban Quijano. The legend of how he came to be involved goes like this:

Don Juan Esteban Quijano, a notable resident of the “white” city of Merida, known for his charitable nature and philanthropic bent, received one day a female visitor, who, in spite of her ragged clothing and poverty-stricken appearance, gave off a dignified air of beauty (these are legends and legends of that time dictate that the poor cannot generally be considered beautiful or dignified). This woman implored don Juan to visit her neighborhood and to help her rebuild her home, a simple palm roofed structure. Her neighbors, all poor, could not be of any assistance and this is why she was asking him. He in turn, impressed by her demeanor and bearing agreed in principle and asked for directions on where he could find her house to which the mysterious woman replied that he would find it in the south west section of the San Sebastian neighborhood and that the home would be identifiable by a ray of sunlight.

Upon visiting the area he found the hut and shining into it was a ray of sunlight, which illuminated the face on a statue of a virgin inside. To his surprise and wonder, the face of this virgin was the face of the woman who had come to ask him for his help.

You can visit the San Sebastian church and neighborhood on your own walking tour of the downtown area or as part of a city tour Lawson’s can organize for you.

Another Magical Day in the Yucatan

My goal as a travel facilitator is to create a perfect, memorable day. Perfect for those who have a soft spot in their hearts for the quiet, magical moments that travel is capable of providing; moments that can be transformative and immersive; that require little more than just letting go and living in the moment. In other words, more … and there’s that invented term again …. excursionary serendipity.

On this day, we were three; my two guests and I, off to visit a cenote and making a stop in the village of Ek Nakan, taking a photo or three of the magnificently Gothic yellow church and having a most delicious taco at the minuscule three-table restaurant named Janeth (the H is not a typo) recently opened and that shows a remarkable aesthetic sensitivity for such a small village with its checkered tablecloths and flowers on each table.

It occurred to me, since one of my guests was an avid as well as professional photographer, carrying an imposing Hasselblad to the wonderment of many, that there was a good photo op of some old stone gateposts leading into a cornfield: a shot I found particularly evocative.

Vamos?” I asked.

Vamos!” she agreed.

The photogenic gateposts in question

Upon arriving there, we saw cars parked and people milling about. A man strode out from among the group and offered up a welcome and greeted me by name. It was one of the men who work in the cooperative that is in charge of the beautiful cenote there. I then saw several more faces I recognized from the many visits to the village over the years. It turns out they were just pulling out of the earth pibes (the banana-leaf-wrapped tamales made for Hanal Pixan) and asked us to join them in tasting them right then and there.

We were soon surrounded by smiling, welcoming souls. We visited their altar, commenting on the photographs of the departed on display, taking more than one photo and just basking - that really is the word: basking like seals on a sunny beach - in their gentle, heartfelt hospitality. And while we felt welcomed and to be honest a little like distinguished guests, it was casual and genuine. I didn’t get the sense that they were kowtowing to the gringos. I quietly asked one of the men in charge if we needed to pay something or make a donation for eating half of one other tamales and sharing in their moment, and the answer was a firm para nada: absolutely not.

Promising to return in the near future we left with full bellies and hearts, marveling and commenting on the magic of encountering such a totally unscripted scene, here in the magical Yucatan.

On Excursionary Serendipity

If you have read my ramblings over the years on several platforms, you know I enjoy making up words; hence: Excursionary Serendipty, all about my evolving philosophy regarding what I do.

Enjoy !


Speaking of Serendipitous Journeys

“Would you like to see my altar?” 

A Mayan x’men from Loltun, whom I had never before met and who had
just performed a hets’ luum ceremony in Sabacche

My philosophy of late has been to consider my outings with guests (commercially known as excursions or tours) as opportunities to test my theory that when you travel in a relaxed, tranquil yet purposeful way, unexpected things happen and interesting people appear without warning or notice; I call it serendipitous touring. 

One such day I had just yesterday. I will describe the day and you, dear reader, can determine where the serendipitous parts come in.

Traveling with my friend whom I shall call Brian (because that is his name) we were looking for the optimal point somewhere south of Merida to experience the annular eclipse, a once-in-a-lifetime event that would next happen in 200-plus years. Seeing that Uxmal and the famous Muna mirador were literally overrun with vehicles and people milling about, we thought we would head further south into Campeche.

I stopped at the border checkpoint where a pair of lonely Yucatan state police officials are our only defense against any incursion by militant Campechanos. It occurred to me to ask the official sitting beside the shelter if he had seen the eclipse happening just then or had heard about it. He replied that he had of course heard about it but hadn’t been able to see anything as they had no equipment to do so.

Handing him my pair of paper glasses, which Brian had thought to bring down from the US of A for this occasion, he looked up at the sun and his expression became one of wonder and he shouted out to an invisible partner who appeared, in pants and an undershirt, from behind the shelter to see what was the matter. We had obviously interrupted his morning routine. This second officer’s reaction was as enthusiastic as the first and by the time he handed back the glasses we had made two new friends.

A few miles into Campeche, we stopped at an open space on the side of the road and enjoyed watching the annular eclipse, alongside a large family who had also arrived at that precise point just in time. Surrounded by fresh green corn plants on both sides of the highway, we watched as the moon glided over the sun.

From there, Brian remarked on the many colorful butterflies and I suggested we drive a bit down the Puuc highway to see them as there are times of the year, when the rains drench the countryside, that a million bright yellow and lime green butterflies float along the stretch of highway from the Campeche border stop to the Loltun caves. Drive too fast and you will annihilate them; drive at an appropriate speed and they will float over and around your vehicle like something out of an LSD-infused dream. Magical. Today this did not happen, although a few floating bits of color did flutter about.

At Xlapak, suffering as are all the Puuc area archeological sites, from ongoing restoration, remodeling and rebuilding works in anticipation of the massive crowds that will leave their all-inclusive resorts and give up their comforts to travel the new Mayan train (ts’imin kaak or fire horse) we saw an interesting tableau: a man cleaning pieces of wood he was pulling out of a battered VW van. When asked, he explained to us that he was removing waste wax and dirt from the pieces of wood used by the bees in the beehives the campesinos hang in the first forest around this area. 

I then proposed that we visit Sabacche, just down the road and past all the smaller Puuc sites. We arrived and turned into the driveway, only to find what appeared to be a restaurant in operation. This was not a restaurant however: it was all family and friends of the owner who immediately came over to say hello and welcome. I had met him on a previous visit with another guest we shall call Lance (because that is HIS name) and had hit it off. Admiring his collection of animals both wild and domestic, the natural cave-sourced air duct and the house on the hill, he made us feel welcome on that previous occasion and today was no different. We were soon informed that a hets’ luum ceremony had taken place with a Mayan shaman. The hets’ lu’um is performed to ask the gods for blessings during planting and that the whole family had been invited. I asked him if we could have a look around and he was more than happy to say yes, introducing us to a man standing nearby,

“Quieren ver el altar?” 

This man was a x’men (Mayan shaman) had clearly just finished the hets’ l’um ceremony.

“Claro que si” 

Brian nodded in agreement. So we trudged up the little rocky hill to a makeshift altar of boughs and branches and flowers and with his fragrant magical potions, swatted us with branches and proceeded to purify us. 

Afterwards, he mentioned that he lived in the minuscule settlement across the highway from the nearby Loltun caves and offered his number should we ever have need for a shaman in the future. You never know, I thought, as I plugged the info into my smart phone. Which is funny if you think about it. Standing on a hill in the jungle with a professed shaman, getting purified and then noting his information in my little handheld gadget.

Returning to where the large family had gathered under tarps, commiserating over food and and drink and some playing Loteria Yucateca (a bingo-esque game with a Yucatecan theme) we were offered a place to sit and have a bowl of sopa, which was essentially a liquid form of what one would find inside a baked pib. Washed down with an ice cold cerveza, Brian and I marveled at how this had all just “happened”. 

After that rather serendipitous moment, we continued on towards Oxkutzcab to visit the giant fruit and vegetable market that wholesalers come to from as far away as Tulum. Parking is always a challenge but we got a spot right on the market thanks to a friendly police woman who saved the day.

While shopping, Brian enjoyed some attention from the ladies selling fruit and I helped with the translation of several marriage proposals which resulted in much hilarity settled down for a bite of tamales with Perla and her Mom who worked at a food stall inside. Between bits and wiping away seat from our respective foreheads, we talked about life and her difficult situation being a single Mom of two girls and working two jobs to make ends meet. A sobering conversation, 

Finally, we were back on the road to Merida somewhat tired but amazed at how a simple outing had turned into such an event-filled day, full of human contact and interaction. So very serendipitous. So very Yucatecan. 

A Complete Foodie Experience

In the past few years, cooking experiences have sprung up like toadstools on a manure pile. Some are alright, some are good, a few are better and one or two are really great. The one we will feature in this post is in the somewhat nearby town of Halachó. There, chef Wilson Alonzo is making a name for himself and all the applause and recognition is well-deserved. He has not been featured (yet) on Netflix but his experience deserves to be included and pronto.

The Master Class option includes a morning market visit, where the group - under the chef’s supervision - selects and purchases the ingredients for the cooking to be done later, mingling with the market ladies who, as this town is not as frequented by tourists as others, still look on curiously as the group meanders about, following the chef through all the various stalls. Sampling is suggested and encouraged. The best part is that you are not fishing out coins and small bills to pay as you go: the chef’s assistant is trailing along behind the group and pays each vendor according to what was consumed or bought. I need an assistant like this!

From there, it is on to the property for a breakfast (remember this and don’t overdo the cochinita at the market) including café de olla and several local delicacies.

Then, it’s time to cook! Chopping, smoking, roasting over several fires, guests prepare the ingredients and the meal to be enjoyed. There is plenty of time to socialize, have a refreshing local drink and even snooze in the hammock. No rush, no clock-watching. It is an amazing time.

The food is delicious, authentic and one comes away with a greater appreciation for the food, the culture and the gentle life in the country, so far removed from the increasingly hectic life in the once peaceful city of Merida.

Enjoy the photos and let us know if you would like us to take you and your group!


Cobá, Quintana Roo - Beyond the Archeological Site

Cobá is usually a destination reserved for archeology buffs, but beyond the site the area around it is perfect for those tired of lounging in an all-inclusive mega-resort on the seaweed-and-hipster-strewn Caribbean coast slinging well-brand cocktails and navigating massive buffets of lackluster food. There is the possibility of immersing oneself in nature along with real Mayan experiences and culture. Even the cenotes feel more remote and pristine.

Cobá is also an excellent alternative for those moving their base from the Merida area to spend some time on the beach; a multi-day mini-trip that makes a boring drive from A to B that much more interesting.

I will get into some of those attractions shortly.

First a few impressions of Cobá. The ejidatarios are in control at Cobá and it shows. At the archeological site, the onerous federal entity known as INAH (Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia) has been kicked out and the locals run the show. A modest $100 peso entry fee pales in comparison to the outrageous $600 pesos at the overcrowded, overhyped and overrrun Chichen Itzá.

The town of Cobá meanwhile, is a mixture of small Mayan village with many concrete structures resembling stores and cafés, not a single cantina, very few hipsters in spite of the proximity to the Tuluminati now fleeing seaweed and narcotraficantes, many chickens running around the streets along with an unhealthy number of dogs. As I write this at 6 AM in a hotel on the town’s “main drag” there are about a dozen roosters next door (the backyard of a modern structure housing a Catholic church) mercilessly crowing their morning salutations.

A short half hour drive on the highway between Cobá and Nuevo Xcan through mostly virgin forest/jungle you will come across tiny villages, some offering food, tours, trinkets, souvenirs. Note that most of these are former rubber encampments, from the days when adventurous Mayans and some foreigners would lose themselves in the jungle for months at a time, harvesting the very valuable chicle or rubber. You can see evidence of their work on the trees in the form of zig-zag cuts, now healed, in the bark of some of the trees. The market has now dried up, a highway was put in and the gold rush and lawless lifestyle has long since disappeared. But the houses and some people remain, forming villages such as Pac Chen, Campamento Hidalgo, Nuevo Laredo. At one such settlement, Punta Laguna, there is the opportunity to enjoy a canoe trip on the lagoon, a zip line and observe spider and howler monkeys. A local cooperative of villagers control access to the site and offer guided tours of the property. The reserve, now officially recognized iand designated as such consists of apparently 5000 hectares of protected land. Part of the attraction is a short paddle in a canoe on the fresh water lake right there in the reserve.